


After Queen

by HippieSlav



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, F/M, Game of Thrones Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-03-05 13:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18829324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippieSlav/pseuds/HippieSlav
Summary: We all know how the show is going. This is an alternate ending followed by what came next for Arya. We also needed more no one as he stands guilty for what that girl has become.





	1. Intro

"Eyes not yet shut look now at the skyes thinking they see their birth right. They look down at the ground and in the burning ashes they see a crown." An outline forming through dust and smoke was approaching, becoming clearer with every word, graciously as a ghost floating behind the white horse, coming towards her. "The birth right bends before it's emperor, crowned by the god of many faces, the destiny."  
Walking towards the horse with shy steps, so tired, not yet too broken, she rose her pale face and after rubbing off the ash off her eyelashes, the face standing before was not one she ever saw before, yet Arya's been blind before, and then she learned how to see.  
"I'm going to kill the queen." the eyelashes were now causing discomfort with every blink from the blood that soldered them.  
"Then go, Arya Stark of Winterfell."  
She got up on the horse, looking back to see the man following her getting lost in the distance.


	2. Destiny's Child

A shadow in the crowd, silence among all cheering, peculiar presence passing by unnoticed, with each step determined to be followed by another one, knowing where it shall land before even thinking, it was just instinct dictating her direction. A man pushed her, another stepped on her foot, but they didn’t pay attention to an insect trying to make place to see the new queen in all her glory, now that she shook the ashes off the now imperial robes and silver hair. She could see the hair shining bright, being more illuminated than the pale sun who seemed to refuse brighten up over Daenery’s savage glory. Arya knew her reasons, they were understandable, yet the image and the smell of people being burned in that pathetic representation of the Doom of Valyria was haunting her still, with every breath, every time she blinked she saw them on the ground, posing in positions that either proved the need to survive until the last moment or the acceptance of their destiny. “ _Not my destiny_ ” she thought as she kept walking “ _one more step, then another, and then” then all shall be over_.  
Arya caught the sight of two eyes watching from distance, moving in sync with hers. They wanted to see the same thing as hers, but they were not meant to, only hers were, hers and hers alone. “ _Somehow he made it, but the luck can’t follow him everywhere. Luck abandons you when you get close to the dragon queen._ ” The coldness of metal send shivers from her fingers through her whole body, only reflex was to look up at him, face red and black, one eye was red, now she could see that, the only thing whole was the hand. The girl pulled her hand away and from her looks she let the Lannister understand he stand no chance. But he followed her through the crowd. “Follow me” she whispered.  
She pointed towards the dragon “If it’s needed, you take care of that.” He nodded and she disappeared before Jaime could tell. 

\--------  
Epilogue- The Poor Knight

An outrageous scream, something only a beast like that could make, cheering as one became separated manifestations of shock, all happening in the deaf silence of the lands stained with queen’s blood. Its source, a small hand holding a knife implanted in between the scales of the imperial robes. “The Queen!”, one yelled. “Look”, another one said pointing towards the beast now writhing in pain, what a distressing view it was, but not as much as the poor soul running towards it. Yes, that caught that man’s eye. Some recognized him, some couldn’t tell what was happening, but the king slayer took a spear from one dupes assisting the show and once the knife left the royal spine, the spear penetrated the beast’s neck from inside the mouth, out through the eye. Another round of screaming, another spear, this one striking between the eyes. It was fatal, and it came from somewhere in the sky.


	3. Procession of Memories

„It was a blood bath.” she said from the back of the horse   
„They needed a leader to unite them.” he replied   
„And the disappearance to turn them against each other.”  
„Some masses need a leader to offer them security, others to keep them from turning against each other.”  
„We’re going back, are we?”  
„Where do you think we’re going?” he asked looking forward.  
Her response was a look that didn’t go unnoticed, but no more words were spoken while there still was a sun on the sky. Air was changing there as well, the cold started to bite, bare trees slowly fell asleep around them, fatigue spreading like an infection through the land, as water they extracted it from beneath. Their last leaves were moving, not in the wind, but in the air, dancing their last dance, performing the ending number only so they could bend before the audience when their weightless body laid on the frozen ground. All that silence, it was too haunting, tormenting. The moment of the day that belonged neither to human nor to animals or demons came, sun was gone and there was still no moon.  
„At the first inn we stop. After that we need a boat, if we can find any. Or would Arya Stark of Winterfell like to see for herself the wold as it is now?”  
„I’ve seen enough of it.”

~

„Two rooms” she could hear him ask while she was taking care of the horses. How white it was, such a beautiful being, took her towards her destiny, where would it take her now? She tried to find a name, but she remembered an old saying, more like a story. She heard it when she was still a young girl at Winterfell, with Sansa and Bran, Rickon, Robb and Jon (how she missed them, but she couldn’t go back, not after all that’s been), it was a story about a boy and a knight. She couldn’t recall the action in detail, but one thing kept coming in her mind horses come and go, there is no point in naming them. Is this one going anywhere, or is it there to stay? How could she know, there is nothing written in stone about the days to come. The man’s horse was grey, so much alike the sky, here and there white stains, so alike the rider's robes. This way, the only thing standing out was the read of the hair from under the hood.  
The place was barely standing, but she slept in worse places. It smelled like mold, humidity, cold, she could even see her breath. „We should sleep outside, it’s much warmer.”   
„You can sleep in Winterfell if you like.” She didn’t reply, but he did „Upstairs, last door on the right.”  
There was a chimney, but the smoke filled the room after she tried to light the fire, so she gave up on that thought. A knock on the door announced the appearance of a small, poorly dressed woman, could have been in her 40s, somehow she survived measles, but her face was forever marked by the disease. „I’m not hungry” Arya told her in a faded tone that spoke for her more than her words.   
„I shall leave it here, in case my lady changes her mind” the woman said, placing the plate on the table near the chimney.  
„I am not a lady” the girl said all of a sudden „I mean thank you”. She noticed her remark affected that woman yet „ _I’m too tired_ ” was all she could think.  
The plate would still be there much later, near Arya, just sitting there before the window, slowly covered in darkness, when she decided to try eat. The bread was no good, the meat was like shoe soles „ _Did they kill a bear?_ ” She dare not touch the yellowish matter, but to spread it around. Somehow she felt sorry about that woman, how her and her husband, maybe children if they had any would go through winter was a mystery.   
More time passed and rest was not anywhere close, neither in bed, nor by the cracked window. „ _That crack looks like a dragon_ ” she thought and left the room. 

\--------  
Epilogue- The Red Dance

The knocking this time announced Arya. Jaqen expected her, therefore let her in. „My fireplace smoked the whole floor.” His look said I know, but words were none. Just closed the door and came by her, now looking into the fire as the Red Woman used to, as the Red Priest did, trying to understand the message behind their wild dance.   
“What does Arya Stark see?” he asked looking in the same direction.   
“Everyone” she almost whispered.   
“And what do they do?”  
“Just burn.”   
The girl sit in the orange light of the flames, and he sat by her. When she went to bed, she remained in that room, and so did he, but in the middle of the night she woke and saw him sleeping before the fire, covered in the sheets that must have been from her room. The smell of coal was still floating in the air, but any warmth was gone.


	4. Paid Debts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -sorry for my chaotic writing-

The morning granted the only sunrays that day would host. They came through the window, touched her face, only then she knew sleep had come and gone in the blink of an eye. The room was empty, the fireplace dead cold. She grabbed her few stuff and left. Jaqen was downstairs, talking to the woman that brought her the food the previous day, both amused, only noticed her when she came close to the table. „A, little girl, didn’t see you coming, or hear you, no wonder, you’re so tiny and so thin, you could walk on glass and no one would hear you, did you eat what I brought you? Was that any good? We don’t have much left and brother says we should get going before winter comes, I don’t want to leave any of our goods behind but he insists so much. I am not afraid of winter but he is the one who shits his pants at the thought of snow and long nights.”   
„It was good, thank you.” was all she could say. Arya remembered the man and the woman that hosted her and the Hound. She didn’t want to say more, they were not hers to save. She already did once, this time it was up to them. „A, there he comes” a young boy with one eye brown and the other an unnatural colour that seemed close to orange came running „He is my boy, his name is Pauce, like his grandfather” she said with pride „It is him I am worried for, not my, not my brother. I don’t want him to end up like his mother.” the woman told her guests in a lowered voice „There my dear, go play.”  
„Should we go too” Arya addressed Jaqen.   
„Thank you for your hospitality” he said resting on the table and left. The woman could see from under his hands a patch knotted with a black rope. When they closed the door she dared to open it to see the golden dragons.

~

„What did you notice?”  
„That the Lannister passed by once or twice.”   
„She was a wealthy woman” he said „before she caught the disease and she was no longer needed. She told me her whole story. What did you notice about that brother of hers?”  
„He never spoke.”  
„Why?”   
„Cat got his tongue.” She looked up at him and caught a smirk that made her smile too. The road ahead was long and unpleasant, anyone could tell that, but the faster they made it to the sea, the better. Not that she was afraid, could tell he wasn’t either „ _I wonder when was the last time he felt fear, or anything_ ”, but no one was immortal, or not from what she thought she knew, she got hurt before „ _Did he ever bleed?_ ” which meant she could be killed.   
Not much it was until she smelled the sea, that chill of the winds carrying salt, all that was left was to find a boat. „There is no place on the boat” an old sailor told them when they asked „Nothing. Take your horses and try somewhere else.”  
„I see there is plenty space on the deck.” Arya said looking him straight in the eyes.  
„No place left.” the sailor said, pointing out each word as if he wanted to throw her overboard and make his point clear enough before the doing.   
They left the old man behind and took their horses further from him, far enough to speak without being heard. “There was place” she said.   
“And, what do you think?”   
“Smuggling?”  
“What?” he said pointing out to the cargo.   
“People.” she took that gut feeling and turned it into the right conclusion. “ _Slaves trading. Where are they taking them? Doesn’t matter, I think we are taking charge of the boat._ ” And she was right. Once all cargo was placed, Arya tide up the horses to a pole and put her hand on the knife, to make sure it was there. They had to be discreet. And so they were, until there was no one left alive out of the traders. “What do we do with them?” she asked. “What we know.”  
\----------  
Epilogue- Dead Men Tell No Tales

The day was coming to an end and they were sailing on calm seas. Arya had to clean each body and prepare them for what they faceless men did best. It was quite unclear to her why they he killed them, but it was none of her business. She was also told to free no man, speak to no man and wait for their arrival at the destination.


	5. Homecoming

All was ready and the ship safely made it to the Braavosi harbour. She did everything as told: her, Jaqen put on faces of the mate and captain, while some slaves were dressed with the crew’s clothes. The few remained were to be carried somewhere safe as the rest of the crew would have been tossed overboard. She was glad to know the slaves were now free to have their own life „ _The Dragon Queen must have felt the same when she freed the cities and burned the Masters._ ” The thought scared her, the Queen had gone mad after all those, but could that be justified by what was done to her? “ _The slaves loved her, but in King’s Landing they only knew fear, that is how they were raised, to fear the Targaryens. They would have never seen her as anything but a Cersei_.” Still, what is done, is done, the last dragon was dead, so was his mother, and it was meant to be that way.  
The Braavosi streets were as she remembered them, each more crowded than the other, people acting like they didn’t care about anything except for their own business, rushing around, some yelling, some laughing, smells of all kind coming from everywhere, there a sailor sells his fish, there a girl sells herself, a kingless King’s Landing, “ _Perhaps happier_ ” she thought, seeing nothing but ordinary people around so far. Later, when made it home she was given another room, a bigger one, not fancier, just a lot larger. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked in the end  
“What you were trained to.” he turned to answer.  
“I am not no one. I have a name.”  
“So did I for a while, you still call me by that.”  
“And you don’t mind.”  
“You know where to eat, where to sleep, train more if you need, if there is anything else you know where to find me.”  
He walked away the dark hallway and after Arya closed the door she could hear the rain. The air was getting colder here as well, rains were more often, sun almost impossible to see “ _Almost like home._ ” Because Winterfell shall always be her home, no matter where she went or what she did. She sat by a large wooden desk (even facing the window, there in day’s light, it would still be black as tar), driven by the impulse to write Sansa, let her know where she was, but there was no paper or no quill; the drawers of the desk were many, but empty each. She rose from the desk, knowing that asking Jaqen for those would let him know her intentions “ _And what would the problem be?_ ” yet something made her hesitate. Even though, she would keep walking.  
There was a door cracked, but she thought to knock first. “Come in.”  
“ _Why did I even bother?_ ” “I need a quill. And paper.”  
He stopped what he was doing and turned around to her with a face that didn’t betray any emotions “You hardly stepped in and want to write your sister?”  
“Yes.”  
He opened a drawer, took the paper and a quill and pretended to hand them to her. “Come back when you are done.” Having taken the materials at least, she would go back to her room and put down on paper all she could think of by then:  
“ _Dear Sansa, I have safely made it to Braavos. I have settled at a friend. Are they looking for me? Do they even know? Let me know how things go in Westeros and Winterfell, especially._  
Your sister, Arya Stark of Winterfell”  
She wrote no address, but gave it to a boy saying if he comes back with an answer he shall have his pay, showing a silver coin as proof.  
\-------------------  
Epilogue- Purple

__

She went back to the cracked door and was welcomed by the same picture, him sitting at that desk, working on hell knew what, focused upon that thing as if he held life and death in his hands.  
“Do you know what this is?”  
“No” she answered while walking towards him, trying to take a better look upon that thing.  
“Poison. I provide it, but in need, anyone can make their own.” he handed her a bottle so tiny she could barely believe that quantity could be used more than once, maybe twice if careful. “You could kill least 20 men with this.” He grabbed her hand tight as if that was meant to point out the gravity of the speech and power of the purple drops. He although, let it go so soft one wouldn’t have said it was the same hand as from before.  
“Who is this for?” she asked staring blankly at it.  
“Them” he said handing a list with five names on it. 


	6. Red Light

It was made clear to her she would have had to be done with all of them before the sun set three days from now, so in the time she had, Arya would have to find and kill five men she never saw or heard of, but she knew where to go and wait for them. “ _The eyes see less, almost nothing._ ” she thought while walking through a crowd in one of the rich areas of the city. The face was hers, but the whole aspect was of a common girl, more lady-like than she had ever been, in a long but simple grey dress, covered her shoulders with a big raggedy green scarf, carrying a bag full of herbs she would try to sell the men or women in need. In her mind, name after name she would recall, waiting for a voice to speak one, only one and the rest would just come. Yet time was passing, sun was leaving, day would come to an end. “ _Not leaving, not yet._ ”   
Her steps walked through sunset until night would have found them, still unstoppable. The ladies started to come out, despite the weather getting cooler, wearing just as much they would wear in the rooms, welcoming every passing man, trying to lure them in, offering either food, drink, or services more and more attractive than their competitors. “Come over, little boy” yelled one who was trying to fish a boy that happened to be there “Come and taste a real woman before you lie to yourself with all the other cunts who’ll call you in their bed” the woman wasn’t very attractive, her features may have been, but the makeup she had put on made her look like an old hag who had a bad sleep “ _That was supposed to be the dragon queen, but she rather looks like her ghost._ ”  
“Little girl” the woman was now yelling at her, after she would have seduced the poor boy “I’ll have a sack of what you’ve got there, maybe you want to come in?” Her gestures seemed theatrical, studied, caressing her as she spoke and waved before her like an apparition in the mind of a drunk man. “No, thank you.” Arya replied and as she put the money in the bag she prepared to walk forward when, from under a red lampion she noticed a tall, thin man doing to another one, smaller, more muscular, the same the woman has done to her. “ _I thought I heard it._ ” The street was narrow, brothels many, tastes varied, and so did the people all around. But the tall one “said a name.” Arya watched him as he entered the house with the other man. Just a little latter, she noticed the same figure on a window, but there was another man behind him. And they were not alone. 

\--------------  
Epilogue- The Waiting  
She returned to the temple determined to go back the next days and make sure they were usual clients before she fulfilled her duty. Returning to her chamber, she took off the dress and slipped into a new tunic and pants she found on the bed. That, the smell of both the new clothes, burning fire, she could fall asleep right in that moment, but a knocking woke her. “Come in.”  
“Is my Lady of Stark pleased with her conditions?”  
“It’s more than I would have asked for. Thank you.”  
“A man is glad to hear. Anything else you’d need?”  
She hesitated a moment, overwhelmed by the welcoming she didn’t expect for a single moment. “No, is all good.” He almost left when she stopped him “Did you eat?”   
“What?”   
“I’d like to dine in my chambers tonight, and I’d like you to join me.”  
“A man is honoured.”  
It was not a long dinner, but long lasting moments of talks scattered with silence, not that kind of silence that makes people uncomfortable, but the silence between two people who look at one another trying to figure each other out without asking much, just by feeling. And that would be a talent, one not many people have, but in that light and at that table, it seemed to have been performed by two masters.


	7. And All Your Fantasies Will Come True

Daylight found her already awake, sitting there by the bed and meditating over her task, trying to figure out what those men did to deserve their fate “ _But that is far from my concern_ ”, even though she was aware of that, the matter would not chase to come back buzzing in her ears like a hungry fly. But the day passed, moment by moment, breath by breath, both for her and the targets, who had no clue what curse was casted upon them. Day after day she played the role of the girl with the herbs, every day would end the same: at the window, always the same, like mad men, they seemed to have lived the same day all over again.  
On his way to the place, the boy with no name had his path painted in yellow by a light that turned his skin to gold, blonde hair could now blind you and eyes turned red. It was maybe the last light of this kind, and Arya was now feeling it on a skin that wasn’t hers, yet she couldn’t help but wonder “ _What goes through their minds? When they know they are not to see another sunlight, when the convict sentenced to death walks upon the scaffold, when he looks at the crowd and sees all those eyes staring at him, there was to be one look catching his eyes, one person they look at until their eyes close, what are their thoughts? Do they analyse that face, every detail they can notice? Are they taking time to regret the deed?_ ”  
Once he made it to the house, there was no going back, all he had to do was to be as unnoticed as possible. And so he was, making way towards the room, he slowly pushed the door. The picture he found was just as one would expect in a place like that: two men on the bed, one laying there while another was sucking his cock and the third one was fucking the last, one smoking something by the window, from behind him came a much younger boy who in a hug had his hands going towards the man’s dick, while on the floor others were smoking from a thing she didn’t see before. One thing was sure, the smell in the air made the nameless boy feel light headed. “ _The one by the window must be one of them_ ” he thought “ _but who are the others?_ ” He couldn’t afford to kill the wrong men, could even feel a slight shiver go through his spine at the thought of Jaqen. “ _Those wouldn’t even remember seeing me here. And in case of anything, everyone shall think it was the substances they did that had them killed._ ”  
“My Lord” he told the man by the window “I beg your pardon, I was told to serve these to Tomarro and his men” the boy poured in a cup he found on the table some water and in it some drops “I was told it is _dragon essence_ ” the man didn’t seem to understand what was going on but he grabbed the cup and started drinking with great thirst „No, my Lord, it is for all of you.”  
„Those two on the floor and the sucker on the bed” he said pointing towards his friends „And him.” the last he mentioned just walked him, hardly standing still. That was the only person in the room dressed besides the nameless boy.  
To make them drink was easier than he could have ever hopped, and as soon as he cleaned the cup and walked out, somewhere in a place untouched by any light she became Arya again and walked back to the temple, questions still dancing in her mind, coming and going, things long forgotten, memories she just made, feelings she had, feelings that just came. Is this her life now? She can walk away any moment, she could go anywhere, but her feet seemed to have a mind on their own and always, even in dreams, carried her back to the doors that now opened before her. 

 

\----------------------  
Epilogue- Don’t Fear the Reaper

“Did Arya Stark of Winterfell had her mission completed?” echoed Jaqen’s voice in the emptiness of the hall.  
“Yes.”  
“And isn’t she curious about those whose lives she had taken?”  
“It is not her concern who lives and who dies, neither is why.”  
“Is there anything a man isn’t told? A man sees it trembling on your lips words afraid to leave and inpatient to stay hidden” he approached her and lowered enough to have his face on the same level with hers, so close she could feel his breath, as much as he felt hers, struggling to show no emotion, but her heart couldn’t be controlled and one could hear it almost breaking out her chest.  
“No” she firmly answered looking him dead in the eyes.  
“My Lady of Stark is lying.”  
“Maybe.” she said and walked away.


	8. No One's Business

Something seemed quite unnatural about his behavior, or maybe it was all in her mind. She couldn’t tell what exactly was giving her that impression, but something certainly was. “ _Is it the way he speaks, the questions he keeps asking? He wants me to . . know_.” She didn’t dare to look into that, no matter how much time passed, how much she was asked to do, it would all end the same, and she would face the same thought. Arya could remember the auburn evening, the last sun before the real winter, which arrived, it first brought lazy snowflake growing into a storm, later tired then it would gather strenghts again.  
The sky was all a cloud, the ground was a mirror of the sky, all, except for the streets of Baavos. The city could be easily taken for a stable. “ _Some looks like pigs anyway._ ” Everyone looked the same, most of them wearing black leather and wool, but those were the rich ones. The poor you could barely see in those brownish rags meant to keep them warm. Those who were the poorest walked even barefoot. You could see anyone there, so many social classes, and, somehow, she was part of none. The questions stopped when a hand landed on her shoulder, putting an end to her meaningless wander.  
“What is Arya Stark of Winterfell doing in these places?”  
“Thinking. How about you? I thought you never left the temple without another face.”  
“Who told you that?”  
“I just thought.”  
“A man found what he was looking for.”  
“Was that me?”  
“Yes. Follow me.”  
He was dressed in the garment of the rich, black wool, gloves of black leather, tall boots, who didn’t know him would easily take him for a lord. The shy snowflakes kept landing on his hair, and she couldn’t help but notice the looks he was given, even she couldn’t help it. “Where are we going?” she asked when the road stopped being familiar.  
“There is something a man wants his Lady of Stark to see.”  
Moments later they stopped before a small house, neither of a rich, nor of a poor. A small woman opened the door. “Yes?” she didn’t seem to see, her eyes looking through the two visitors. “Are you here for my son?”  
“We came to visit” Jaqen answered.  
“Come in then, come in” she turned around, hitting everything in her way with a stick. “Dear, you got visitors!”  
Her son was a lot like his mother, not so tall, a little fat, red curly hair and face full of freckles.  
“My Lord, my Lady. Come, please, sit, mother made soup and I can help her make pie-”  
“Who asked for your help? Sit here and watch for the guests, I am blind, not stupid, that is you.”  
The woman left the room and her son sit on a chair while the two guests found their place on a couch covered in a blanket embroidered with such care “ _Could it be made by her or_ ” Arya looked at the little man that sat before them, with a large smile, an expression of pure joy. She hardly finished her thought when he started talking again. “Mother made it, before she started to lose her sight. She used to be a tailor. Then she stopped seeing and I had to help her somehow. That is how I ended up being very good myself” he showed towards a carpet hanging on the wall representing a woman in a red dress with golden hair “That is queen Cersei, I made it after a man’s description of her, I heard she was beautiful but fierce, kind, but merciless, I’ve got to see her, so I can’t tell how good it is”  
“It is perfect” Arya interrupted him. “I’ve seen her, that is how she always looked. You are very good.” The woman was shown entirely, with a lion sleeping around her at her feet. Arya could notice the golden wire from the details.  
“Thank you my Lady, see, that is why I went sailing in the first place. I had to get materials from here and there, I was on my way to Highgarden when our ship was attacked by pirated and I was captured, alongside with the others. When you came to save us it seemed like a dream, we own you our lives.”  
She couldn’t believe her eyes when she heard that story, she couldn’t even remember that man “ _Or maybe?_ ”. The fact that he kept calling he lady wasn’t much of a bother, his enthusiasm making her ignore that little fact. “ _Is he a Lord? Or was he ever?_ ” They ate and thanked the hosts for having them over, by the time they left snow around the house was almost as tall as her. 

\-----------------  
Epilogue- A Moment of Silence

“Why did we go there?” she asked back at the temple. Night came and the place was cold, dark, almost haunting.  
“Because a girl needed to see.”  
“Why? Why do I have to know all these? You never told me before about none of those and now is like you want me to know about all of them, I thought you said it was not my business, that we just gave lives to-” with every word she was heating up, almost stopped thinking realizing she wasn’t heading anywhere, when a thought flashed through her mind “It was his mom, she paid you to kill those on the ship.”  
“Arya Stark of Winterfell has always been a smart girl, and a man always admired that. Since the day he met her, a man knew she would come to be the best of us.”  
She watched the steam leaving his mouth with every spoken word, captivated, noticing how the snow melted in his hair, reminding of the day she found him in the baths. Still trying to figure out the meaning of all he said while there was no answer to the unspoken questions and the silence sneaked in, but this time it was clear it was only her trying to understand him.


	9. Words Cut Deeper

Words Cut Deeper

It often happens for two people to end a conversation that way. It is when they both have something to say but chose not to, usually because the time for some words didn’t yet come, but that doesn’t mean they were forbidden, even if they felt that way. She would have read the letter that just came from her sister when she left to his room, which yet turned out empty “ _and cold._ ” It was in the middle of the night when she decided to look everywhere she could, there was no way she could let things this way. But forcing the words to come out before their time is one of the most dangerous things in this world, and, mostly, the damage caused is impossible to be fixed. She found him downstairs, hardly walked in. He reminded her of the white walkers and every step injected fear inside her bones, fear there was something wrong. The venom spread through her whole body when he dropped down on his knees then fell on the floor as if something shot him just then.  
She wasn’t sure but as she tried to carry his body back in her chamber she kept thinking she heard him whispering _Arya_ when he was on his knees. His body was heavy, and she wasn’t very strong, but she had to do that. His clothes were the same he worn when they visited the cabin, that gave her a clue what he had done. She tried to carry him over her shoulder, and with great effort he laid him down on her bed. Then she noticed the face in his hand, as a confirmation of some thoughts, but not all, not what was important. Those seemed to be kept secret for now.  
“ _Arya_ ” he groaned “in my back” Jaqen tried to turn over but the pain stopped him. Arya left the fire she was trying to start to help and that was when she saw a small stick coming out from under the black wool. She tore that apart and saw a bleeding wound, on the verge of getting infected, smelling not even half as bad as it looked. “Poison” he whispered “in my desk, milk of the poppy and a small jar with red potion.”  
She moved as fast as she could, grabbed all those and by the time she god back he would already be standing up, trying to take off the garments soaked in blood and mud, then fell back on the bed. His face was pale, the wound once cleaned once could see it was turning yellow. “ _How could anyone ever do such a thing to . . him_ ” she remembered how they first met, when he was caged and that was just another proof they were not invincible. She wasn’t either, all the marks on her body proved that. All those were not close to what she found on him “ _There is no organ left untouched_ ”, and that was true, there were stabbing marks in all the places you could stab a man, cuts more than could have been counted, and now there was one more. She poured the red liquid in the wound, on the bandages, and once the caring was over they could both rest. 

\-------------------  
Epilogue- Dazed and Confused 

\- Did you get him? she asked in the morning when he woke.  
\- Yes.  
\- How many were they?  
\- One.  
\- How did it happen then?  
\- A man didn’t know he had friends.  
\- What poison is this?  
\- One that could have killed a man if Arya Stark of Winterfell weren’t there.  
She stopped to wonder whether he died at every cut, if he was always coming back as someone else, it was all so complicated, her head was now full of questions, all fighting which was to be asked first, a chaotic dance of thoughts, each one having its own song being played. So she chose to listen to the one played silently, as if it was ashamed to be heard by the rest of the crowd.  
\- Did you know I would be there?  
\- A man can’t tell the future, but a man can hope.  
\- Hope for what?  
He was sitting on the bed. That, for some reason, made her feel misplaced so she got the chair she had been sitting through the night while watching for him, waiting for her answer, the confirmation of the thought.  
\- That a girl shall be there for him, he said while his hands trembled in a reluctant movement, a gesture of kindness killed before it was even born, for it was not it’s time, not yet.


	10. Fire and Blood

When one is wounded, they often become more sensitive, their soul opens up and words start pouring out, free, like a water that waited to break through the wall which held it all that time. It finds a way, any small crack, and profits by that opportunity. It could even happen to the strongest and yet avoid the weak, no one could predict what an injured is capable of, especially themselves in those feverish hours, and little does it matter the nature of the wound. This one was impossible to read, he could have been trouble even for the gifted. To penetrate his mind was like digging through stone barehanded, so careful this man was in hiding the real feeling, yet, she saw through. His face was paler, walking would stray from the path, and she could swear he almost passed out a couple of times. Jaqen was aware of his condition and the consequences of letting it overcome his reason, but you cannot hide everything from those who know you as much as Arya knew him, or when it gets you down.   
For them, the pretending ended with a fall, not in the literal meaning, it just felt that way, drained of something, maybe her soul leaving when she found him in his chamber, on the bed, still and pale, hardly breathing. She forced herself in slowly and spend the rest of the day looking after the mysterious man as much as she possibly could. “ _The wound is clean, it hasn’t bled ever since, from what I know._ ” But it was something off with it. She thought to press harder on the scar, the immediate result consisting in him groaning when she reached the something moving under the scar. “We need to open this again.” she said and started cut through the skin. The blade was so delicate in its slaughter, leaving behind a trail of blood which also fell with elegance, softly, like a feather landing on the ground, the drop followed his bodyline until it met the sheets and mercilessly embraced the fabric, followed by a couple more crimson tears, the undreamed proof he was also human.   
When done, she lit the usual fire, the one which has been following her since King’s Landing. Every night she sat before it, staring at the flames in which so many found their ending, people she met, people she has never seen before, sons of thieves, sons unknown, all the sons she never got to know, burning in the flames of the savior. “ _Not even so long ago._ ”  
“Arya?”  
She turned her look from the chimney, going towards him at the sight of Jaqen trying to rise from the bed, putting him back without the slightest effort “ _He’s got . . weaker. So much weaker. What was he thinking?_ ” “Don’t move, you shall be better by tomorrow.” The response was a silence different from anything else they experienced so far, this one was like a void, swallowing everything around. “How are you feeling?”  
“A man is better, thankful for his Lady of Stark.”  
“Why didn’t you say anything?”  
“A man was stupid.” he said, switching his look from the ceiling to the face marked by a mild smile for the first time in a long while.  
“You should get some sleep.” She put her hand on his and held it tightly.

\---------------------------  
Epilogue- And the Past Clothed in Night

He woke when the night was still wrapped around their part of the world and found her sleeping by the bed on a mattress and with a finger dared to touch her hair, a soft gesture as it was, yet making her turn around. When she noticed it wasn’t something in particular he desired, she dared to ask “What were you before this?” But not every brave gesture is awarded. Still, it didn’t prevent another one from coming “A lord? Common folk? Did you have a wife? Did you ever love anyone?”  
He kept playing with the strand of hair he won earlier, unable to let go of such a desired award. “A man has a story, like everyone does. But he is no one now, and his story is gone, and so are the people a man once loved or hated.”   
The answer Arya expected may never come, she understood that, but it wouldn’t keep her from trying. Something inside was telling her to keep digging, though, for now, she would take the hand in hers and close her eyes.


	11. Faces Change Turning the Pages

Later, it was as if nothing ever happened. Almost nothing, for that night when, for the first time, he was like her, not the man impossible to touch or make bleed. It was an unpleasant event that turned out to have an unexpected outcome, the fall of a wall whose existence no one was aware of until then. But what was that between them anyway? A wall of glass, something they could both see through so clearly it was impossible to sense its presence unless you run into it, yet that could make you look like a fool, so you do your best to never look for an obstacle like that. They didn’t even try touching it because they never dared to touch each other. Any such attempt was doomed to make the one who took the step be the fool. And no one possessed a desire of such great risk. “ _How should I be ready to look the man in the eyes when I have always had to look at him as no one?_ ” Arya has been stroke by a feeling still foreign when, right before falling asleep, she looked into the eyes hidden behind the mix of red and white hair and saw a warmth that reminded her of Gendry, “ _but in his eyes I saw desire, now it’s something else, too familiar, as if I've seen them before"._ ” She decided to sit in the great hall and wait. It didn’t take long before her watch ended:  
“Where are you going?” her voice echoed in the dark of the place.  
“A man is needed.” he said while she was coming closer. Her pose was meant to show confidence, her words as well, it was only her soul hosting the seed of doubt.   
“When are you coming back?”  
“When a man is done he shall be back to answer his Lady of Stark’s questions.”  
“She wants to come with you. Last time you almost didn’t come back in one piece.” she said making her way to the door “Could a man be getting old?”  
“A man has no age. He is as old as his Lady of Stark wants him to be.”  
The absence of any objection would have been seen as peculiar a couple of days ago, but now, she was just ready for what already came to happen, and what has not yet came to be. He was younger, his red hair gone, all just silver, falling like a waterfall on the brown cape. Her hair was longer, black as coal, but her face was hardly new, it would just carry a scar under the right eye, it was almost as if she got older. On the grey of the fur around her neck, the waves of hair, capturing the little light of the Braavosi winter, seemed to turn into blue. They got into a carriage which stopped before a tall building that looked like no other “ _What is this place?_ ”  
“Nobility from very far comes here to discuss and enjoy their time.” he replied to her thoughts.   
She looked up at him in shock to notice how the height difference wasn’t as noticeable, also “ _His eyes are so green, like a tree in the spring, yet so unnatural._ ” Through the crowd they got looks and some bothered to greet them, some even stopped to have a chat. Arya kept looking for the poor soul they had to send on the other side that day “ _Not very tall, not small at all, her hair black, not short yet not long, a woman neither fat nor thin, someone you could walk by any day_ ” was everything he told her on their way there.   
“Did the eye of my Lady caught the sight of the woman?”  
“I’ve seen her. Five times and every time she’s another person.”  
“If my Lady is brave enough to joke around, she must be ready for what is next.”  
“I killed the Night King.”  
They looked at each other smiling and kept walking, going upstairs, where there was no trace of a presence of any kind. 

\-----------

Epilogue- The Eye Below

They stood up there watching the people talk, moving around, forming a chaotic painting where there was not a single one resting and silence, despite her noble roots, was not invited. He could have been on the point of saying something but the time didn’t allow that luxury so he just slowly moved her face from the crowd with his palm and kissed her gently, and she joined the game, purely out of instinct.  
“She was looking up.” he said resting his forehead on hers.  
“I know” the girl replied while catching her breath.


	12. Lost Boy

They would have split up only after, one walked in the shadows, the other was close to the door. It was Arya hiding in the shadows, waiting for the woman to come back again. Meanwhile, she couldn’t help but wonder, what she did to deserve this fate. “ _She’s beautiful, and beautiful women often piss off weak people._ ” She noticed that before many times, she saw how men thought they could do anything they wanted with a woman, but when they failed, that person because a threat. “ _But Cersei handled the king_ ” she thought, remembering how her and Robert were getting along. The image of the Lannister woman staying by Bratheon’s death bed was briefly interrupted once she felt someone approaching that wasn’t Jaqen. She turned around swiftly, grabbing the person and putting a dagger at their throat so quickly that person had no time figure out what was going on. Like a wind she curled around the invader, covered her mouth with the other hand and sneaked out of everyone’s sight.  
“Who are you? Why do you keep chasing me?” she said once her mouth was free.  
“Who I am is not your concern, neither is why I am here, I should be asking you why you thought attacking me would be a good idea with so many eyes around.”  
“I was told to meet someone who could tell me about the boy.”  
“What boy?”  
“That I can’t tell you.”  
“Not even if your life depends on it?”  
“My life doesn’t matter.”  
“And who would look after that important boy you mentioned earlier?”  
“I can’t tell you.”  
“Then I shall kill you.”  
They looked at each other, darkness sheltering them, behind the bare trees and bushes. They have been standing to still, snow covered their heads and shoulders. That woman, much taller than her, if you had seen her any other day you would not believe she held such a great secret and embraced such a powerful fear.  
“A Targaryen” she whispered “a child escaped, barely alive, now we try to find-” her mouth stood open and her eyes were twice their size. The woman kneeled then kissed the little snow that laid on the ground, now becoming a part of it. The girl looked up and saw him, barely noticeable featured, yet the hair was like a beacon in the night, she walked towards it and without saying a word they left. “ _Who was she supposed to meet?_ ” would be haunting her for a long time, if not eternity, unless she could do something. " _All she did was knowing. But now . . now I know too._ "  
\----------------------------  
Epilogue- One Way or Another

Knowing he wasn’t invincible encouraged her to acknowledge other things as well, such as the impossibility of always being watched by him. Of this she took advantage the moment she returned to the place that woman was and collect what she needed. It would be difficult, but she had to do it, she needed to. And she would have to do it alone. There was, yet, one more thing kept staying on her mind and that was the only thing standing in her way. How she felt the moment they kissed would make doubt and guilt catch roots in her heart, roots that went so deep they reached her soul, and so make Arya wonder hiding this from him was necessary. After all, what reason did she have to keep this only for herself?


	13. If You Have Ghosts

Her life has been divided many times. First was _before and after Winterfell_ , then _before and after the execution of her father_ , _before and after Braavos_ , but now there was a new division taking place, not exactly pleasant. It was _before and after the woman_. She carried a secret she wasn’t supposed to know; she had to complete a task and then vanish but instead she listened to _that walking dead_. Arya kept seeing the moment the woman fell in the fresh snow, how she paid with her life for knowing, for seeing “ _a Targaryen boy_ ”. It was haunting, as if the spirit of the woman was now tied to her by a chain never to be broken, not until this would come to an end.

She had been nonetheless collecting ghosts from all the places she had been to, all the people she had ever met, passing their personal entities to her, or becoming them. “ _A collector_ ” she would call herself now. “ _Not a stupid girl_ ” she thought again. It was obvious to her that Jaqen kept sneaking inside her mind more and more every day, and that made her irrational. “ _Is it irrationality? I trust him. Is that wrong? He trained me, trusted me enough to have me under his roof- his God’s roof. I could have been roaming the streets of King’s Landing, under ruins, but all that had happened lead me here. Destiny lead me to him, again._ ” When you carry knowledge of such great responsibility, it is the most human thing to desire share it with the person you trust, yet the hardest part is to find such. Often people commit mistakes, as it is in their nature. Drove by desperation, people run to a someone they _think_ they can trust, only to regret that later. It is anyway, a risk too big to take. She has to be sure she can trust him, feelings aside, the girl was in need for proof.

Sitting at her window and watching the winter becoming the real queen of the Seven Kingdoms - “ _Six, Sansa told me there are six now_.”, Arya remembered how important it was to have a trustful ally back in King’s Landing. “ _A matter of life and death_ ”, just like now. One mistake and you, as well as other innocent sides involved without their agreement, could disappear as quick as a snowflake on a warm palm. “ _It would be as you were never there, as if you didn’t matter._ ” but succeeding this task would make her matter more than she could ever imagine. Her brother was now king, it was a good choice, he was one of the people who knew the folk he needed around themselves. That was a talent, a quality often skipped by people who forgot how important it is for a leader to gather the best minds around them, maybe even more important than being a formidable leader on your own. The dragon queen had it too, but she had too many ghosts to carry, so they took lead and left her behind. It was anyway clear the Targaryen boy would be an important part in this never-ending play, “ _Circus_ ”, but yet impossible to tell if he would have any claim to the throne. “ _Maybe she only wanted to keep him safe from those who’d see him as a threat to the throne, to the king. He is a Targaryen, they thing he is mad before anything else._ ”

\---------

Epilogue- Truth or Dare

She knew what she had to do, all that was left to figure out was how. When you are a small girl, there are not many ways you can win in battles of any kind, you consider them lost before you even had the chance to start just because the odds never seem to be in your favor. But it isn’t only the girl with those thoughts, everyone else is, and when you act, your advantage is that they don’t expect much of you. More than that, when you are rather a tomboy girl, they don’t expect you to act like a woman.


End file.
